


Brief Encounter

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Post-Episode: s05e01-02 Redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 01:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20480711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: What if Scully was the first to say I love you?





	Brief Encounter

No one stops him on his solitary walk to Scully’s hospital room. A night nurse glances at him and for a second he stops, ready to charm his way through a conversation. But instead, she nods at him, the shadow of a sad smile on her lips, and doesn’t say a word. They all know that Scully is on borrowed time. Hospital rules don’t matter anymore. To him, they never have.

Mulder enters the room quietly. Someone must have forgotten to close the blinds; soft, milky moonlight fills the room. Heavy steps carry him to Scully’s bedside. She’s turned towards the window, fast asleep. In her sleep, she looks peaceful. Right now, he doesn’t see the pasty paleness of her skin or the hollow darkness under her eyes. If he wanted to, just for a moment, he could pretend. He wants to pretend. 

As he stands there watching her, he wishes, and not for the first time, that their roles were reserved. It should be him in that bed, fighting. But he’s just standing here, a helpless observer. Breaking apart on the inside, piece by piece. He touches a lock of her hair, half hoping she will wake up, but she slumbers on, undisturbed. How will he go on without her? One day soon (too soon), this silence will be his partner. His only companion. The thought brings him to his knees. When was the last time he heard her laugh? Saw her smile, even? Was the last time… the last time, ever?

In his need to touch her, to feel her alive against his skin, he puts his face on her hand. It’s sleepy warm, alive. Before any of this, in unguarded moments, he thought of them together. He thought they had time. There was always something to run after, something to discover, to solve. Now time has run out and all he wants is another day with her in a car, arguing, while she calls him crazy. Smile at him in that special way that he secretly thinks she reserves for him. This is all they have now; fragmented moments in stolen nights. 

He kisses Scully’s knuckles with shaky lips. His throat is closing up as he tries to keep the tears at bay. It’s no use. They trickle down his cheeks, onto her hand and the sheets underneath. The need to scream overwhelms him. Can’t, can’t, can’t, his mind chants. Can’t lose her, can’t let go.

“Mulder?” Scully’s drowsy voice makes him look up.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat, “why are you awake? Did I wake you?”

“Hmm, I think so. What time is it?”

“Late,” he answers as he sees her try to sit up. “Don’t get up. You need to sleep. I’m going to leave you alone.”

“No, wait,” she says, reaching out to him and holding his hand tightly in hers; there is so much strength left in her. “Don’t leave just yet. I’m just waking up.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, still kneeling by her bedside. His knees protest, but the physical pain is a welcome distraction. 

“It’s fine,” she says, her lips twitching but not quite managing a smile. “Did anything happen? Why are you here?” She blinks slowly, almost as if in slow motion. He should leave her alone, let her go back to sleep. But he’s always been a selfish bastard, hasn’t he? Every second he gets to spend with her is a gift.

“Nothing happened,” he says; it’s a lie. There are things he wants to talk to her about, but as he looks at her now, he realizes it’s not important. She is the only thing that matters right now. So he just smiles at her, a bit sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.” Not a lie, just not the whole truth. It will do, for now.

“I’d invite you into my bed,” Scully says, the words drawn out, “but there’s not enough space.” His first thought is that she’s making a joke. A silly joke, haha, to lighten the mood. When he sees the pout on her lips, though, her expression serious, he knows she is serious.

“It’s fine,” he croaks out. “I’m fine down here.”

“Hmm, you’re warm.” Scully puts her face on his hand, as if she, too, needs the contact. Their faces are close now and he sees that her pupils are dilated. He doesn’t know what they give her to sleep, to stop the pain. His heart sinks; this playful Scully, while still the woman he knows and loves at heart, is not herself, not at this moment. “There wasn’t anything you wanted?”

“Just to see you,” he repeats with a gentle smile. “But you should sleep now.”

“So should you,” she says and touches his face. Her fingers dance around his cheekbones, uncoordinated, and it tickles. “Oh Mulder.” Her voice turns serious as her fingertips find the puffy, still damp skin under his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says, borrowing her words.

“You’ve been crying.”

“Allergies,” he jokes, giving her a shaky grin.

“You don’t have any,” she says, a crease forming in her forehead as if she were going through his medical history in her head.

“I do tonight. Don’t worry about me, Scully. Let me take care of you for once, hm?”

“You always do,” she yawns and gives him an apologetic look. Her eyes grow smaller and smaller. Any minute now she will fall back asleep. “Mulder?”

“Hm?” He moves his head closer to hers so that their noses and foreheads are almost touching. Underneath the antiseptic and all too familiar hospital stench, she still smells like Scully.

“I’m tired,” she says and her voice is so weary that, just for a second, he wonders if she’s talking about right now, or her cancer, all of this. He swallows hard.

“I know,” he whispers back. “Sleep now. I’ll be back in the morning, all right?” She yawns again and nods. His hand is still under her head so he feels the movement rather than he sees it. It’s as if she doesn’t want him to leave. As much as he would like to stay, watch over her all night, the sharp pain in his knees prevents him from staying in this position much longer.

“I love you, you know.” It’s as if she’s said the words a million times. She doesn’t falter or pause, her eyes on his, as serious as he’s ever seen them. She loves him. She, Scully, loves him, Mulder. The words repeat themselves in his head and he understands them on their own, I, and love, and you. Together, directed at him, they don’t seem to make much sense.

“Scully, you…” But she’s already asleep. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is evened out. He looks at her a while longer, unable to leave just yet. Not after what she just said. Another lock of hair has fallen into her face. He tucks it away gently with a smile before he frees his other hand that she’s been using as a pillow. Scully doesn’t stir. Standing, he watches her. She loves him. Whether she’s drugged or not, she said the words. He touches her cheek with two fingers, the desperate need to feel her once more too strong to ignore. Who know how much time they have left.

“Love you, too,” he whispers into the sterile hospital air, but Scully doesn’t hear him, is lost in what he hopes are happy, colorful dreams.

In the morning, he returns to her room and smiles brightly when he sees her awake, looking at him.

“I came by last night, but I…,” he pauses. There’s no recollection on her face, nothing. She doesn’t remember any of it. Maybe it’s for the best. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” he finishes. Just like he doesn’t have the heart to tell her now that she was awake last night, that she talked to him. Told him that she loves him.

Another time. There will be another time. 

He will make sure of that.


End file.
